


Paper

by TheSushiMonster



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 07:12:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1129810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSushiMonster/pseuds/TheSushiMonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Most of the time, Jemma understands Fitz." Fitz always throws scissors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paper

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a post by tumblr users wefitzthings and traviosita9124.

Most of the time, Jemma understands Fitz. She understands that he wants a monkey as a lab assistant because the first stuffed animal he ever owned was a monkey gifted from his late father. She understands that sometimes all the possible solutions distract him and that she needs to narrow down the problem in order for him to wade towards the answer. She understands that when it comes down to it, Fitz prefer the familiar: he likes his tea with one sugar in the morning, his coffee black in the afternoon, and his hot chocolate can only have four marshmallows. So while Jemma can claim to understand Fitz, sometimes he makes it easy for her; he's incredibly predictable.

And when he drops his screwdriver for the fifth time in ten minutes, Jemma smiles fondly as she rolls her eyes. "Did you forget to ground yourself again? One of these days you're going to burn your hand on the static electricity – "

"What – " says Fitz, glancing over at her quickly and shaking his head sharply. "No, it's not that."

Jemma frowns. "What's wrong?"

He pauses; his hands hover in midair, his fingers softly typing on an invisible keyboard. She thinks she can see the gears turning in his head, calculating and computing. Fitz bites his lip. "Nothing's wrong."

"Fitz – "

"Leave it, Simmons."

Jemma steps towards him, taking care to stand on right side, away from his left elbow – more liable to get poked in the stomach if she stands there, since Fitz tends to make sudden jabs that way – leaning towards him to keep his attention. "You've been off all day - is this about Skye?" she says, smiling slightly. Fitz glares at her without looking up from his work. "I promise I won't laugh. Or did Coulson give you a new assignment? I can handle not being involved all the time, you know – "

"Simmons – "

"Or maybe you're homesick! It's okay, Fitz, you know how much I miss my parents – we could give your mum a call tonight! Or – well, whenever tonight is in Scotland – "

"Simmons." Fitz drops his work onto his desk and stares at her. Jemma shifts under his gaze.

"Please Fitz? You know you can tell me." He stays quiet, just looking at her. Narrowing her eyes, Jemma nods as the perfect plan settles into place. "Fine. Roshambo."

"What?"

"Roshambo," says Jemma again, still nodding. She knows Fitz; she knows this is the best way – she knows Fitz will always throw scissors, and she knows Fitz knows that  _she_  knows he always throws scissors. If Fitz  _really_  doesn't want to talk to her – "If I win, you tell me what's on your mind. If you win," she says, shrugging slightly, "you may do whatever you please."

Fitz continues to stare at her, the only hint of emotion the slight twitch in his left eye. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay." Stepping towards her, Fitz extends his hands. Jemma nods to him. "Roshambo," he says; she's staring at their hands.

She crinkles her nose at the sight of his flat hand. Fitz  _never_  throws paper – unless he really wants to win. Jemma sighs. "Okay – if you don't want to say anything – " she says, before looking up at Fitz. But he's not looking at their hands; his eyes are locked onto her, unwavering even as indecision seems to swirl behind his gaze. "What – "

And then he kisses her. Her breath catches in her throat, even as her heart beats rapidly, the warmth of lips wrapped onto hers sending shivers down her spine. Fitz moves back even as she blinks quickly, her mind still whirling as the goosebumps continue to grow on her arms.

"Oh," says Jemma. All other words seem to die somewhere between her brain and her tongue.

Fitz smiles hesitantly. "I'm sorry – we can pretend that didn't happen – "

Jemma grabs him by his tie and kisses him again.


End file.
